I Just Don’t Know Which One You Is…

Sometimes writing fiction brings one to a greater truth. It makes one reflect not only on what’s going on in the lives of their characters, but also in their own lives. The spotlight turns and the navel gazes, as it were. Writers are, after all, merely human. They search for the same truths and insights into life that the reader seeks. Omphaloskepsis is something we all do in search of greater meaning. It’s not always about vanity. Sweet word, right? It’s just another way of saying navel gazing.

WIKI: “The word Omphaloskepsis comes from Greekomphalos (navel) + skepsis (act of looking, examination)”

To gaze at the navel was at one time a form of meditation, but it has become a relatively slapstick term to refer to a form of over-exaggerated self-absorption, or narcissism. But honestly, in the age of THE SELFIE, nobody really has time to contemplate navels anymore. We’re too busy clicking, swiping, adding filters, trashing, liking, and retaking selfies to stop long enough to look at our navels. We’re really giving navel gazing a run for its money. I wonder what the ancient Greeks would think of what we’ve become in this renaissance of über vanity.

navelgaz.jpg
Satyres en Atlante, hanging out at the Navel Gazing Cafe.

“Mama mama please, no more face lifts, I just don’t know which one you is…” ~ Nazareth, from Holiday

I do believe I’ve been taken off course yet again. What I mean to say is, as writers of fiction, I’ve noticed of late that we have an added perk of working through our own stuff through our fictional worlds. I know, I know…everyone is probably thinking, “NO! NOT THE MARY-SUE CHARACTER!” But that’s not exactly what I mean. I do believe a writer can do this without fully injecting themselves into the story. ALTHOUGH, WE SOMETIMES RUN THE RISK OF BECOMING ALL OF OUR CHARACTERS AT ONCE…to the point of now knowing which one we relate to the most.

What I mean is that we sometimes, either purposefully or inadvertently, chip away at ideas and thoughts and issues that have been bubbling just under our own surfaces. We throw characters into situations to see how we ourselves will work our way out of them. Life correlates to fiction, which correlates to life. It’s a cool sort of gift you forget about, until something makes you realize it’s happening again.

Maybe we shouldn’t knock the vanity as much as we sometimes do. But then again, maybe we can put our phones down for a bit–or at least take them off selfie mode–and do a little introspection through the navel instead. Self-examination doesn’t always need to be about narcissism. It can actually make us better people.

I feel as though my fiction is occasionally much like a Magic 8 Ball…and if I examine it closely enough, I can almost predict my future. I guess I’m just having an appreciation moment for what it is that writing gives back to the writer. For writers just going about the everyday business of throwing together a story, there is often a sense of connection, of grounding that comes at the end of the words. I like that. Even if it does cause me to examine my navel more closely. It was good enough for the Romans…

 

 

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